You I Us We
by AliasPseudo
Summary: Zechs and Noin are friends, sometimes more, sometimes less. Through tragedy, war, relationships, hell, and high water. For better or worse.
1. First and Second

**You I Us We**

Ch 01 - First and Second

by APs

**A/N** – I realized I don't really write peripheral characters much and that it's a crying shame since they are incredibly interesting, for the most part. In the spirit of self preservation, have no set update schedule and length may vary. Writing between school, work, and sleep tends toward the unpredictable.

Attention!! - Though this fic focuses on Zechs and Noin, pairings will fluctuate.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy! Reviews of all kinds are treasured!

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Tomorrow would be graduation. They were fourteen and foolish and neither wanted to die a virgin. Honestly, both had had too many close calls, seen too much death, already in their young lives to let this opportunity pass. Years of competition and hardship had brought them close, made them lean on and against each other. No one could say when, or if, they would next find a true ally, let alone a kindred spirit. Regulations be damned. Tomorrow they went to war. Tomorrow they belonged to the Specials.

"Are you alright?" His voice was soft and dark with concern as he watched her dress from where he was reclining in the closet's corner. Their blanket was draped over his gangly form in much the same way his pale hair fell about his shoulders. Buttoning her slacks, she smiled and the awkwardness that had been threatening evaporated. That smile belonged to him.

"I'm fine," there was that omnipresent note of humor, "I don't break so easily." She bent down to kiss him and he pulled her down on top of him into his arms, chest against barely developed chest, holding her close, savoring another heartbeat.

"You're too strong for that," he agreed with a smile. She couldn't see it, but she knew. Smiles on him were always ironic.

With a sigh, she snuggled closer, "Father always wanted a boy."

"You're the top cadet in Academy history," he reminded, absently brushing soft dark hair from sharp dark eyes.

"Salutatorian, remember," she chuckled, rumbling through both their bodies. "Not that first was ever enough for the Old Man."

"Some rebellion," that ironic smile, "letting me be first."

"It's just a record," dark humor glittered in dark eyes before he smothered it with a kiss. She yielded, melted for him, only him. He had been the only one to accept her first as a soldier, to consider her not only an equal, but a real threat. She could have had her pick of cadets, but he was the only one she let see her, let have her. There was a connection there, he was sure, even if he couldn't quite grasp it. She smiled at him, his smile, the only thing truly soft on her.

He touched their foreheads, breathing her in, "Lucrezia…"

That aquiline, roman nose wrinkled, "_Milliardo_."

She felt him stiffen at the name spoken, like it hit him with material force. His arctic eyes shifted away even before he disengaged their arms and sat up, leaving her rapidly cooling on the floor. She shifted onto one of her bony elbows to watch his back and sighed. Between his cold exterior and hot anger it was so easy to forget how deeply he was broken. Too easy. Sometimes she wished the scars he endeavored to hide had been simply external. She shifted to shrug on her over shirt, but stopped short of buttoning it, picking something up off the floor and prodding him in the back with it. He turned, platinum strands sweeping out of ice blue eyes to see her holding out his mask. That soft, sad smile gracing her lips, eyes closed. He took it slowly, gripping it in both hands, "I don't know if I can do this, Noin."

She came around and knelt in front of him. Taking his sharp featured face between her hands, she combed hair away to plant a kiss on his forehead and both eyelids before searching out his mouth. Her hands slipped away, reclaiming the mask and once they parted she gently settled it on his head, "I'll be right there next to you. Just like always."

"You won't always be there," he corrected, voice going hard, bitter. Anyone else might have been hurt by the sudden change. The mask always hurt a little, so much loss and anger coming through as cold aloofness.

"Yes I will, Zechs," she smiled, that smile that belonged to him, with that understanding that belonged to her. "Always."


	2. Lightning and Rose

**You I Us We**

Ch 02 - Lightning and Rose

by APs

**A/N** – (edited) Well, I fix that embarassing 'lightening/lightning' issue. I suppose that's what I get for typing quickly and not using my lovely beta reader. Ah, well, thanks for catching that Bryony.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy! Reviews of all kinds are treasured!

* * *

He smiled in that easy, artificial way as he watched Lucrezia shift uncomfortably in her dress uniform from across the room. They'd both grown, though she'd managed to blossom where he'd simply stretched more. She looked up and caught his gaze through the mask, which was always slightly disconcerting. That smile slipped onto her face, so different from the somber, dignified scowl she used to remind the fool aristocrats that she was a soldier, too. She'd get further with the smile, but that was never really her point.

A throat clearing behind him stiffened his back, "Enjoying the party?"

A smirk drawled across his lips as he turned, "General Catalonia likes to flaunt us when we win."

"Romefeller likes to keep an eye on its investments," his superior agreed in well tempered amusement.

"Plot on your own time, Treize," he challenged in a low, ironic drawl.

The taller man actually smiled, while his ever present attendant, Une, bristled at the lack of proper titles and respect. He dismissed her with a vague wave of the hand, "I do, Lightning Count."

His smirk fell flat at the name, but he made no comment.

"It is a bit lurid, isn't it," his tone was casual, though his eyes laughed outright, "They do need their heroic figures, though."

"Noin would be a better choice," Zechs looked back, attempting to find that swatch of dark hair, that smile.

"More than likely," Treize conceded, snapping the young man's attention back to himself, "However, masked men that fight like the devil tend to capture the imagination more than competent soldiers. I had heard you two were close."

The blonde eyed him, evaluating, "We trust each other."

"Ah," Treize was coolly surveying the room, his posture boneless and open. Absently, he adjusted a glove, "She's a good friend to have. As am I."

Noin was emphatic about her trust in Khushrenada, even if she had her doubts about his fanatic second. Zechs smirked at no one in particular, "I'm sure."

"Let me tell you a story," Treize paused, checking the younger man from the bare corner of his eye, "My family once knew of a man, a King, who was the fifth of his family to have a certain name. Now that man had a son to whom he also gave that name, making that Prince the sixth."

Zechs had gone still, icy, "That would be how it worked."

His superior smiled, "Yes. When the kingdom fell, it was believed the Prince had died with his father, though had he not, he certainly could not have used that name, or completely rid himself of it either, I'd imagine."

"Your point?" It came in a cold, low growl.

He made a flippant motion with a single gloved hand, tilting his head slightly, "I was simply thinking of how strange 'Zechs' is as a name."

"'Treize' isn't any better," the blonde pointed out.

"I suppose not."

He couldn't keep himself from relaxing, there was simply something about the man, he exuded confidence. "You've been following me."

The small nod he made may well have been a bow for all its poise, "I take an interest in my men."

"Some more than others," he smirked again, only a touch ironic. "What do you want?"

Treize blinked, earnest, "To be friends, Lightning Count. I thought you'd agree that we both already had too many adversaries."

"Don't you have enough friends?"

An elegant eyebrow rose, "No such thing."

Zechs tossed a stray platinum lock rather flippantly over his shoulder, "There's a difference between followers and friends, Treize."

"Truly."

The masked man took a moment to reevaluate the person next to him. Khushrenada rarely fought anymore due to old injuries, which no one ever brought up in person. That was seldom because of how uncouth it would be, however, considering when he did pilot, he could still beat most others soundly. There was something about Treize Khushrenada that just made him a force to be reckoned with. Even through the placidity of confidence, there was a fire to him. Light, warmth, power, none of them were really correct. The man simply radiated. It was enough to make the blonde smile despite himself, "No promises."

"Then it's not much of a friendship," Treize murmured as he waved at a passing coupled before turning laughing blue eyes on his companion, "A man's word is his bond, after all."

"I'm not bonding myself to you," he assured, even as he felt himself relaxing, bending, losing the argument.

"A dead prince certainly couldn't," the Duke agreed, "A deformed soldier is another matter."

A single hand drifted up to gently touch the nearly forgotten, yet omnipresent, mask, smooth and hard under gloved fingers. Realizing what he was doing, he covered the action with a small cough, "I can vow on my mask, if you'd like."

"A mask can be removed," the other reminded gently. With that poise and dignity that marked his every motion, he placed a hand on Zechs shoulder, steering him off into the sea of people as though they had known each other forever.

"Until it shatters, then?" Zechs smirked.

Treize Khushrenada smiled softly at him, eyes bright with amusement, "How utterly appropriate."

"Hm."

* * *

**karina001** – Thank you.

**Bryony** – Thank you kindly. There should be plenty more to come.


	3. Colonel and Count

Colonel and Count

by APs

**A/N** – Thank you for reading. Please enjoy! Reviews of all kinds are treasured!

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She stormed into the office, complete with chill breeze and distant thunder. Dark eyes flashed as she threw a clipped salute to her superior followed rapidly by a sheet of paper. The other woman regarded her passively from behind her large round spectacles. They were a study in opposites, one disheveled and battle gross the other parade crisp, smelling of roses. She shifted her attention to the paper and after a few moments regarded her subordinate again with a single arched brow.

"This appears to be a transfer request, Lieutenant Noin."

Noin nodded, "It is, sir."

Une placed the paper on a solid desk, leaving a single gloved hand upon it, "A request for a position away from the front."

"Yes, sir."

"May I ask why, Lieutenant?"

"If you must, sir," came the curt reply.

A small, sardonic smile alighted on Une's lips, cold and humorless, "Why?"

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"Zechs!" She couldn't see any sign of the enemies that had broken off except billows of black smoke. Unfortunately, the same could be said for the man who'd taken off after them. Pushing her Leo faster, Noin cursed, "Zechs! Answer me!"

"Lieutenant!" One of her men called, "Two clicks to the east, looks like one of ours."

She was there before she even remembered turning her suit in that direction. The other suit was knelt, leaning forward and streaming dark smoke from a gaping blast wound in one shoulder. Her cockpit was open and she was leaping to the ground before any of her men could think to protest or quote regulations at her. Heart pounding in her throat, she sprinted through tall grass and smoldering debris toward the ruinous form. It loomed over her, smoking and jagged and so still, as she forced her way to the cockpit. Empty, hollow. There was nothing there.

"Noin?" the question drifted up from the ground, near the feet of the gigantic metal corpse. She whirled, blinking through tears she hadn't noticed at the man standing there. He was tall and graceful, uniform and hair barely even mussed. A split lip the only sign he had recently seen violence. It seemed instantaneous, not even a beat before she was throwing herself into his arms and kissing him soundly. When they broke, she was left with the mingled tastes of him and his warm blood.

He frowned down at her, "What are you doing out of your cockpit?"

"What?" She blinked at the icy admonishment in his tone, being held at arms length, which felt very far indeed considering his height.

"As an officer, you're not supposed to leave your cockpit in the field," he reminded her in that soft growl.

She bristled, "You're an officer, too."

"I was making emergency repairs," he explained, slowly, as though to a child, "so I could attempt to return to base on my own."

"Don't patronize me, Zechs," dark eyes flashed dangerously.

A smirk of cold irony brushed his lips, "Then don't act like a child, Noin."

Eyes wide, she just stared at him, "Excuse me?"

"You're an officer," his hands on her shoulders seemed heavy, restrictive, "Act like it."

She settled into a dark glare, "Don't you dare lecture me on appropriate behavior, Zechs. Not after you abandoned the line back there."

He frowned, "I was containing a possibly dangerous situation."

"You were chasing another goddamned medal right into the most obvious ambush I've ever seen," it wasn't quite a shout, but it wasn't much short. Her fists were shaking at her sides and she couldn't meet his eyes, "I… I thought…"

"Noin…" His frown deepened as his gloved hands slipped down her arms to her elbows, "Your duty is to your men, first."

She stepped back, shaking his hands away, "And what? I'm just supposed to sit back and watch you get yourself killed!?"

"You do what has to be done, Lieutenant," he asserted coolly, wilting slightly. "Go back to your suit."

"Don't," she warned, "Don't you dare pull rank on me."

He quirked an eyebrow, "Are you disregarding a direct order?"

"I thought you'd gotten yourself killed!" She spat, crowding him.

His voice went cold, "Don't embarrass yourself more than you already have."

Her wrist was caught before it touched his cheek and he smirked, cold and ruthless. She ground her teeth, "Let go."

"If you're going to strike a superior officer, don't hold back."

He was laid out in the dirt before he felt the throb of his jaw from the fist, mask spinning a few feet away. She stood over him, a dare of violence, "Do you want to die? Is that what this is, what you're doing?"

Icy blue pinned her like daggers, "I'm doing what needs to be done."

"I won't help you kill yourself to become some big damned hero!"

"I don't need your help," he stood slowly, spitting a mouthful of blood to the side. "I need you to do your job. That's an order."

"Court martial me," she growled, turning her back on him, stalking away toward her Leo, "Lightning fucking Count, sir."

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She ground her teeth, "So I can do my job better, sir."

Une sighed, arching a brow, "You're just leaving him?"

Noin weighed the woman, the officer, before her with great care, "My place is beside him, not behind, sir."

"I see," Une gave her with a sour frown down her nose.

"I'll be there when he needs me."

"If, you mean," Une corrected.

"No, sir, 'when'," Noin rebutted stiffly, "He'll know exactly where to find me."

"Oh?"

"I'll be doing my job, sir."

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Bryony – Haha, thanks for pointing that out(embarrassing as it was)! Anyway, yes, I have a soft spot for courtly wheeling and dealing. As far as I'm aware, the first meeting noted is in Ep. Zero, though Treize does call him 'old friend', I think. Doesn't matter, I guess.

karina001 – I'm glad you enjoyed it. I vastly underestimated how fun it was going to be to write banter for Treize and Zechs.


	4. Strength and Grace

**You I Us We**

Ch 04 - Strength and Grace

by APs

**A/N** – So, long time between chapters, but I made no promises. Anyway, I'm not dead, so expect more soon.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy! Reviews of all kinds are treasured!

* * *

He sighed, meandering down the large, empty hallway. It was dark. It always seemed to be darker these days and he found himself thinking with growing certainty that it was not likely to get brighter anytime soon. She was waiting outside his office door when he rounded the corner, ramrod straight and filling her dress uniform admirably. Unexpected, but that had always been part of her charm.

"Noin," he addressed her as she had requested, long ago and far away.

"Forgive the intrusion, Sir," she saluted, but found her hand being gently clasped, having lips lightly brushed over gloved knuckles.

"It's a pleasure," he turned to unlock his door.

Her words seemed to stumble over each other suddenly, "Permission to speak freely, Sir."

He regarded her more closely. The woman was stiff backed and tense, dark eyes flashing and lovely face marred by a frown, so unlike herself. He took his hand from the knob and gestured for them to walk on, "Granted."

They fell easily into step beside one another and much of her tension seemed to melt quickly away. They strode casually through the deserted halls in long moments of stretching silence and he waited. Finally, she cleared her throat, "Where's Une?"

"I sent her to Moscow in my stead," he articulated crisply in place of a frown, "There are lessons to be learned from criticism."

"Grace," she smiled in place of a laugh, "She took your reprimand to heart."

"That was the intent."

Noin let her voice drop to a raw murmur, "Be careful with her. A woman's heart can be unpredictable at the best of times."

He nodded, but let it pass. It was not his place to comment on the state of women's hearts.

"Sir," she trailed off and he looked at her expectantly. She took a deep breath, "Zechs had the remains of Gundam Zero One gathered."

He took a moment to let the implications of that settle. She had obviously crafted that sentence with care, far be it for him to be uncouth. The less he knew, perhaps the better. "How is he?"

"Frustrated," she sighed.

He felt himself smile, that he could relate to, "I have every confidence in him."

She nodded mutely this time. It left him wondering if perhaps she felt that was not her place to comment. They reached an open corridor that abutted one of the beautiful courtyards, cloaked in evening blues. Her dark eyes were searching shadows, before locking on him, brazen, "He needs an anchor in all of this."

He blinked at her, "Don't we all."

"That's not-" She ran slender fingers roughly through dark bangs, obscuring, but never averting her eyes, "He respect you. He listens to you."

He let a small chuckle escape, warmly amused.

"Sir?" A slight blush rose in Noin's cheeks, recalling the young cadet visiting him in the L3 field hospital. He pressed a hand to his side gently, old wounds, fond memories.

"Zech chooses his own bonds," he clasped hands behind his back, confident if slightly self-depreciating, "And the world would be poorer did he not. Moreover, he has you."

"I didn't give him a choice, not that we're that close anymore," her voice was gruff, but fond. She sighed, or growled, perhaps would be closer, "He just seems to drift further away. So different, so aimless."

His cool gaze took in the woman she'd become, a life he'd once saved. He remembered them just like he remembered those that died for him, but he had scars to keep her name fresh in his mind. The little tomboy cadet that always looked at him with utter, irrevocable trust was now a woman, standing beside him in agitated distraction. He cleared his throat softly, "There is one tie he will always have, in spite of himself."

Lovely dark eyes blinked, equally hopeful and guarded, "There is?"

"I understand the Peacecrafts had two children," he mentioned casually. Seeing no effect upon her countenance, he continued, "Also, I've heard recent rumors of a tragedy involving a young girl."

Those midnight eyes widened in sudden comprehension, "Is she alright?"

"Apparently, though a modicum of guidance may be appreciated soon."

"Guidance and protection," she suggested with a knowing smirk.

He nodded, "Not unseemly for someone so valuable."

"Is that an order, Sir?" Though her eyes were closed, she wore an odd little smile, a singularly feminine expression foreign to his little tomboy of memories. It whispered of womanly knowledge and bittersweet thoughts.

"Take it as you will," he loosed calmly to the night, "I have every confidence in you."

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**karina001** – Thank you! I don't know why, but I always figured Zechs was one of the few people that could actually make Noin react violently.

**Bryony **– I'm glad you like it. And, yes, Zechs completely deserved that punch.


End file.
